


put in perspective

by Vitexy



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitexy/pseuds/Vitexy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>junhoe doesn't believe in soulmates. until he meets his soulmate that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put in perspective

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of those 'first words your soulmate says to you printed on the wrist' thing but idk. i mostly thought of it because i couldn't stop thinking about how mundane those lines have to be and i dunno how anyone makes it romantic. you guys are talented. i can't make anything romantic

The air is frigid and chilly this morning, typical weather for the fall season. The sky is gray, overhung with clouds blocking out the sun. Not that a little sunlight would have done much to warm anyone walking around outside. The leaves of the trees have mostly begun to wither and fall, and the dried leaves are picked up by the wind, scattered along the streets and sidewalks.

Junhoe lifts his shoulders up, burying his mouth and nose beneath the warmth of his wool knit scarf wrapped tightly around his neck as he stares at the crosswalk signal impatiently. He actively works to suppress a shiver while glaring at the signal. The hand signaling for him not to cross is beginning to piss him off. When the signal finally turns, he grips the strap of his messenger bag, hugging it close as he jogs across the crosswalk.

There’s a quaint little coffee shop on this street nestled between a post office and a tea store, and it’s Junhoe’s favorite place to go. The owner’s used to him and often gives him drinks and snacks for free, so naturally it’s his go-to spot.

The door opens with a little jingle from an overhead bell. Junhoe first sighs at the warmth of the shop, a relief from the cold outside, before taking a moment to scan the area. The place is already crowded, but Junhoe spots an open table and rushes to throw his bag on one of the chairs, claiming the space as his own.

“Your ears are so red,” Jinhwan, the owner, comments when Junhoe steps up to the counter. The younger man reaches up, cupping and massaging the tips of his ears.

“They hurt,” he complains, rubbing them for warmth. His ears have always been particularly sensitive to the cold. Even a warm, windy day would bother them.

Jinhwan mercilessly laughs at him. “You’re so sensitive,” he comments, completely ignoring the scowl on Junhoe’s face. “Anyways, just the usual for you?”

“Yeah, just the latte. Skim milk, please.”

“Not hungry?”

Junhoe eyes the case of pastries for a moment before shaking his head. “Not right now. Oh, I have something for you though. One second.” Turning on his heels, he rushes back to his seat, flipping open his messenger bag to rummage inside for something. He pulls out a little pamphlet and walks back over to Jinhwan, handing it over. “The people over at the printer want me to go. Interview some people, write up a story, blah, blah, blah. Thought you might be interested in going.”

Jinhwan takes the pamphlet from him, only scanning over the title before his eyes light up. “Oh! A soulmate pride parade? Cute.”

Junhoe shrugs. “It’s just mushy gross celebration I guess. With food. Which makes it bearable. Anyway, I thought you might like it.”

The elder raises a brow as he looks back up at his regular. “And your work is sending you there?”

“It is my area of expertise, thank you.”

“You’ll just crush everyone’s souls,” Jinhwan scolds him lightly. “Just let them have fun, why don’t you?”

“I have a job to do,” Junhoe says dryly.

“I don’t get you,” Jinhwan remarks, setting the pamphlet down on the counter and grabbing a paper cup to make Junhoe’s order. He shakes his head as he grinds up some coffee beans. “What do you have against soulmates?”

“I have nothing against them!” Junhoe protests indignantly. “I just think it’s…”

“Stupid?”

“Illogical. I was going to say illogical,” Junhoe corrects him. “I mean, it’s just why would you give yourself over to - to fate like that. You probably barely know this person. You don’t know if you’d even get along!”

“Of course you would! Because you both are soulmates,” Jinhwan chirps. “That’s the point. That you were made for each other. Isn’t it romantic?”

“It’s creepy,” Junhoe deadpans, and Jinhwan instantly deflates. “It doesn’t make sense. I’d rather be in a relationship with someone I know than to jump into one with a person I’ve barely just met the way some people do. Besides that, it’s all exacerbated by _this!_ ” He thrusts his right arm forward, wrist up where his tattoo is underneath all his layers of clothing. The first words your soulmate says to you is written there, in their handwriting. It’s suppose to be magical. It’s suppose to connect people for the rest of their lives. “It’s so mundane. The shit that’s written across here.”

Jinhwan furrows his brows as he brews a shot of espresso for Junhoe. “Why? What does yours say?” he asks curiously.

Flushing, Junhoe pulls his arm away as if afraid Jinhwan might snatch it up and read his horribly, horribly stupid tattoo. “Nothing,” he blatantly lies.

“I just think you should give it a shot,” Jinhwan chides, mixing the milk and espresso together.

“Fine, what does yours say then, Mr. Optimism.”

The elder falters as he hands Junhoe his latte, but the younger can tell by the look on his face that he’s made his point clear. “Your coffee is great,” Jinhwan eventually answers weakly.

Smugly, Junhoe raises his cup at Jinhwan and says, “your coffee is great,” before taking a sip. Jinhwan pouts and shoos him back to his table.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Junhoe is a journalist working for the local newspaper. He writes about community issues for the most part, but with a heavy focus on the soulmate phenomenon. Or, more specifically, he’s constantly critiquing the idea, desperate to prove to others just how jacked up “soulmates” are. There are plenty of others like him out there of course, jaded or otherwise just disappointed, but the vast majority are people like Jinhwan - so lost in the fantasy of a potential soulmate he can’t even comprehend just how difficult it would be to find said person. Statistically speaking it’s just ludicrous!

Still, Jinhwan clings to his hope, often taking the route of claiming that destiny and fate will bring his soulmate to him, nevermind the fact that it’s actually pretty damn hard to meet one’s soulmate. There are billions of people in the world, all of whom say the most mundane of things to you, if they say anything at all. Even if he were to meet his soulmate, Jinhwan likely wouldn’t even know it. There’s nothing special about his soulmate’s first words to him. There’s nothing special about soulmates period.

But maybe Junhoe’s just a born and stubborn pessimist. His parents are a happily married soulmate couple who used to fill his head silly with stories of soulmates as a child. You’d think he’d grow up to be more like Jinhwan, but, instead, their stories just made him more doubtful about his own prospects.

_Can I use this?_

That’s the stupid line written across his wrist and a phrase he has heard many times over from classmates asking to borrow his pencils or staplers, to having to share materials with others, to older women and men who ask if they can snag a chair from him while his parents are in the restaurant bathroom. What a joke. How the hell was he supposed to find his soulmate with a phrase like that? He damn well isn’t going to ask everyone to write it out so he can check the handwriting. Soulmates are a stupid, terrible, awful, horrible -

“Can I use this?”

Idea.

Junhoe’s fingers freeze over his keyboard as he tears his eyes away from his computer screen to look up at whoever is talking to him. A few years ago, his heart might have skipped a beat upon hearing that phrase, maybe the tiniest inkling of hope in his eyes, but now he hardly reacts to it.

The guy staring at him has small eyes, snapback pulled over his head, and he’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans like it isn’t balls freezing temperatures outside right now. He raises an eyebrow at Junhoe’s staring. The blond stares at him a moment longer before his eyes drop down to the chair the stranger is leaning against. “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he says with a wave of his hand.

The stranger tilts his head, eyes dropping down to Junhoe’s table and scanning over his belongings. He has his laptop out along with his ipod and a notebook and pen, though he hasn’t written down any notes yet. Then the snapback guy shrugs his shoulders, thanks him, and drags the chair over to the table across from Junhoe. Another boy is sitting there already, dressed in similar clothing except his snapback is own backwards. Junhoe rolls his eyes at them, taking a sip of his coffee.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

A few days later, Junhoe is at the coffee shop as he usually is, fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop as he finishes an article due tomorrow. When he finishes up the last sentence, he sits back in his chair with a pleased sigh. The soulmate festival is coming up in a couple weeks now, and he should probably get in contact with the coordinator. With that in mind, he picks up his phone to make some phonecalls.

“Hi,  Mr. Kwon?” he greets when his call is answered. Reaching out for his pen, he draws his memopad closer, ready to write some notes. “Yes, hi. My name is Junhoe, I’m with the local newspaper. I’m planning to attend your event in a couple weeks, but I was just wondering if you could give me some details now. You know, what to expect, what the purpose is, the scale of this event, that kind of thing.”

A strum of guitar strings makes it hard for Junhoe to hear the response. “I’m sorry, could you say that one more time?” he requests, a bit embarrassed while he jots down some notes. He has to ask the poor coordinator to repeat a few more things before they finally hang up.

Blowing his bangs out of his face, Junhoe’s eyes narrow at the table across from him. Two guys sitting there, one with a guitar across his lap that he keeps strumming from time to time. It’s not even a song, just random notes, and - he plucks another guitar string. Junhoe cringes at the noise.

Scooting his chair back, he stands up and strides over to the other table with purpose. “Excuse me,” he says, interrupting their conversation.

Two pairs of eyes look at him, and the one without the guitar says, “What?”

Junhoe presses his lips into a thin line at the friendless tone of voice. He turns his attention specifically to the one holding the guitar. “Do you have to play that in here?” he asks, trying to keep his tone level, polite.

The stranger raises his brow at him. “Am I not allowed to play it in here?”

“It’s just, I’m trying to work over there and your….plucking is distracting.”

The stranger smirks and sits up straighter in his seat. “Oh,” he says, “my bad. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the entire planet revolved around you and your work.”

Junhoe startles a bit at the words and the tone of the others voice. He’s not really use to people snapping back at him, either because they had enough sense to be polite, or because Junhoe was rather intimidating. “Excuse me?” He blinks. “I was not implying that -”

“Then get off your pedestal and quit whining about everything.”

Junhoe snaps his mouth shut, staring at the man holding the guitar and then his friend. Honestly he wants to say something back, to snap at him for being so rude, but he doesn’t. This guy clearly has a quick, sharp tongue, and without even knowing it, pushed Junhoe’s vulnerable button. Being told that he’s whining is just about the greatest insult to him, and he almost never knows what to say in response.

So he turns on his heels, stomping back over to his table. He shuts his laptop, shoving it into his bag as he hastily pulls his coat over his shoulders, haphazardly wrapping his scarf around his neck, before he takes his belongings and rushes out of the coffee shop.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” he hears the guy’s friend ask.

“I doubt anything has ever been up his ass,” guitar guy says. They both snicker at that, and Junhoe’s face flames as he slams the door open and rushes from the coffee shop.

“Oh, he left something,” Hanbin remarks, pointing to the blond’s table.

Bobby turns to look over his shoulder, spying a yellow memo pad with a pen on top. Sighing, he takes his guitar and sets it against his chair as he stands up to gather the lost materials. He’ll just give them to Jinhwan. He probably has some kind of lost and found thing. Plus, that blond guy shows up almost every day as far as Bobby can tell. He picks up the memo pad and pen, eyes scanning over notes he doesn’t understand before pausing.

“What is it?” Hanbin asks him as he saunters back over.

“Whoa, check this out,” he says, throwing the memo pad down in front of his friend.

Hanbin leans forward with interest, eyes scanning over the paper. His interest quickly dies. “I don’t give a shit. I don’t even understand what this means. ‘500,000 people,’” he reads off, “oh, but there’s food. What the hell is this suppose to mean?”

“No, no, look.” Bobby rolls up the sleeve of his right arm and places his hand down next to the handwritten notes. “Look at this.”

Hanbin stares at the handwriting, then the tattoo across Bobby’s wrist and gawks. “No fucking way,” he gasps, grabbing hold of his friend’s wrist. “Can’t believe you’d get a guy like that as your soulmate. Did he really say this to you?” He traces the words on his friend’s wrist.

“Yeah, I asked him if I could take that chair from him a few days ago, remember? This was seriously his response. ‘Yeah, sure, whatever,’” he mocks.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Both of them jump at Jinhwan’s voice, Hanbin pulling his hand away from Bobby’s wrist. He takes a sip of his house brew awkwardly. “Your coffee is great,” he comments in an attempt to diffuse the situation a little. “By the way.”

Jinhwan beams at him. “Thank you,” he replies. “Hanbin, right? Sorry, I’m a bit bad with names -”

“No, you’re not,” Bobby interjects, flipping the memo pad over as if trying to hide any evidence.

“But I try to make it a point to remember Bobby’s friends. And don’t avoid the issue. _What_ were you doing?” He snatches the memo pad from the table before Bobby can stop him. His younger friend makes a noise of protest, but quickly abates when he realizes that he’s lost. Jinhwan has the memo pad now. “This is Junhoe’s notebook,” Jinhwan points out, furrowing his brows at the notes on the page. “Did he leave it here?”

“Yeah, by accident. We were going to give it to you so that you could return it,” Bobby explains.

Jinhwan raises a brow at his friend, clearly unconvinced. “Oh?” he challenges the younger. “So you and your friend were gawking at it because?”

Sighing, Bobby decides it best to simply give in to his friend. “It’s just, I noticed the handwriting is all. It’s the same as my tattoo here,” he points to his wrist with a nonchalant shrug. Jinhwan’s jaw drops a bit at the implication, and Bobby nods his head, encouraging him to make that connection.

“Wait, Junhoe - really?”

“He even said the right words to me! My fated words!” He rolls his sleeves back up and stares at the tattoo on his wrist. “‘Yeah, sure, whatever.’ I mean I knew it would never be romantic or anything, but I kind of expected like a spark you know.”

“A spark?” Hanbin asks him.

“Yeah, you know, like an indicator that this is the one! Or something. Instead I just got dismissed.”

“Wait, so you’re saying that Junhoe is your soulmate?” Jinhwan interrupts, tucking the memo pad beneath his arm.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jinhwan frowns, reaching down to pick up the pen as well. He looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, Bobby. That kind of sucks.”

His friend interprets his words all wrong though, nodding his head in agreement.  “Right? I mean what an uptight dude. Totally straight-laced. Not my type at all.”

“What?” Jinhwan smacks him on the back of the head with the memo pad, glowering at his whimpering friend. “Junhoe is sweet and considerate and attractive....” he trails off in his thoughts, only snapping out of it at the bizarre looks both Bobby and Hanbin are leveling him with. “Anyways, the point is, he would make a great soulmate. Especially for you, considering how wild you are. He just...doesn’t believe in soulmates.”

Hanbin makes a face. “What does that even mean? Doesn’t believe in soulmates. Like he thinks they’re a myth or something?”

“No.” Jinhwan shakes his head. “He just doesn’t have faith, you know. Like I’m a hundred percent sure that if you tried to tell him you’re his soulmate he would run away and avoid you for the rest of his life.”

“Sounds like a pussy,” Hanbin snickers. That, too, earns him a smack on the head with the memo pad. Hunching down, he covers his head with his hands and wisely decides that keep his mouth shut on the subject from now on.

“It’s not very nice to prey on someone’s insecurities,” Jinhwan scolds him while shaking the memo pad at the younger boys. Then, he turns his attention to Bobby again and asks, “So, what are you going to do then?”

Bobby shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he lies because he already kind of knows what he wants to do. His eyes focus on the memo pad in Jinhwan’s hands. “Can I hold onto that for now?” he requests.

Jinhwan glances down at the memo pad and hesitates before reluctantly handing it over. “Only because you’re his soulmate,” he explains to his friend. “Please don’t make me regret this.”

Bobby waves off his concern which does nothing to ease the elder’s worries, but his friend is a good person. Bobby is a bit of a free-spirit who can have a bit of an attitude problem, but he’s polite and kind and loyal to his friends, and Jinhwan is sure that they must be good for each other. Somehow. He’ll figure out that minor detail later.

**  
  
  
  
**

The blond, Junhoe, if Bobby remembers correctly, shows up at Jinhwan’s the next day before Bobby even arrives. Hands shoved into his pockets, he glances at his soulmate who is completely absorbed in his laptop while he saunters up to the counter where Jinhwan is working.

“Junhoe’s already asked about his memo pad,” the elder tells him before Bobby can even say hello. Closing his mouth, Bobby hands over his tumbler. Taking the cup from his friend, Jinhwan turns and fills it with the house brew for today. He leaves just the right about of space for Bobby to put in his cream and one packet of sugar the way he always does. “I told him that I haven’t seen it.” Jinhwan turns back around and hands the tumbler back to Bobby.

The younger boy takes it. “Don’t worry,” he assures his friend as he pours in a healthy amount of cream and one sugar packet. “I got this.” He snaps on the lid of his tumbler and then makes confident strides towards Junhoe.

The blond doesn’t even notice him, nevermind pay him any heed, until Bobby clears his throat and says, “Hey.” Finally, the blond looks up, staring at him blankly for a moment before his features twist into one of disdain, and Bobby can’t help but grin. He takes that as a sign that the blond most definitely remembers him from yesterday.

Fingers hovering over his keyboard, Junhoe looks down at his table, eyes sweeping over the items on top of it, then he scans the rest of the coffee shop before he finally settles his gaze uncomfortably on Bobby again. He doesn’t appear as if he’s going to say anything in the near future, so Bobby takes it upon himself to lead the conversation. He places his tumbler down in front of Junhoe’s computer, and slides one arm out from the strap of his backpack, swinging it around to the front so he can easily dig into it.

“You left something here yesterday,” he informs the blond, pulling out a yellow memo pad and pen. The instant relief on the blond’s face keeps Bobby’s grin in place. “Here.” He hands the items over to the blond who gratefully takes it from him.

“Thank...you,” Junhoe says, stinted, like he’s not use to saying it on a regular basis. Bobby thinks he’s probably not given his snobby, self-centered attitude yesterday, okay, trying to stay positive about his soulmate here.

“So, sorry about being so snappy with you yesterday,” Bobby apologizes, resting his forearms on the back of the chair.

The blond places the memo pad down next to his computer, smoothing out the pages. “Oh, it’s fine. I guess.”

Bobby waits for the other to return the sentiment. You know, maybe apologize for acting as if he owned the world, but Junhoe doesn’t say anything further, instead attempting to focus on his work again. And really how is this suppose to work when all he wants to do is deck his soulmate in the face? He looks over at Jinhwan, one brow raised, clearly unimpressed by his friend’s description of the blond, but Jinhwan looks so damn hopeful.

So Bobby pulls out the chair and attempts to put in an effort. “I guess we kind of got off on the wrong foot yesterday. My name’s Jiwon by the way, but I’d prefer it if you’d call me Bobby.”

The blond hunches over his laptop, but lifts his head up just enough to peer at Bobby from over the top of his laptop. He doesn’t say anything in response, but his eyes narrow and Bobby can tell easily enough that he’s suspicious. “What do you want?” he eventually asks. Bobby straightens a little in his seat. Straight to the point. He kind of likes that.

Still, he decides to play it safe, better that blondie not yet know that Bobby already knows him. Kind of. “I’ve seen you around a lot. I come here a lot ‘cause Jinhwan gives me free coffee. Figure it’s better to iron out our differences now so we don’t clash again.”

The blond regards him for a silent moment before he finally responds to Bobby. “Well then, rest assured that I will not bother you or your friend anymore. Is that satisfactory?”

Bobby’s lips pull down into a frown and his brows furrow at the notion. That was...unexpected. He can tell Junhoe is impatiently waiting for him to leave already, so Bobby retaliates by sinking further into his seat, taking off his sweatshirt to hang over the back of the chair, making himself more comfortable and cozy in the spot. No, he’s not moving any time soon, if for no other reason than to bother this straight-laced freak.

“So, you got a name or what?” he asks, not polite yet not rude either.

“Is there a reason you need to know?” Junhoe asks evasively.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to tell me?” Bobby counters.

The blond purposefully presses his lips together into a thin line, sitting up in his seat and slamming his laptop close so there is no longer anything acting as a barrier between them. Then he folds his arms on top of the table and levels Bobby with a gaze more observant than he expects. “What do you really want?” he continues to press the issue. “You don’t really expect me to believe your last excuse, do you?”

Bobby can’t help but smirk at his response, releasing a short, almost scoffing laugh as he looked down at the table top. For a brief moment he considers taking the blunt, straight-forward route he’s so used to. He could tell Junhoe that they’re soulmates because he recognizes the blond’s impeccably neat almost feminine handwriting and he’s sure his own chicken scratch handwriting is emblazoned across Junhoe’s own wrist. What would it hurt? So maybe Junhoe would pick up his shit and run just like Jinhwan predicted. Oh, no then what? Bobby would have lost the most boring soulmate on the face of the planet.

But another part of him, the romantic part of him, fears losing this chance with his soulmate. Even if Junhoe seems like a disappointing match, he doesn’t want to give up on something that’s his. So, he plasters a cocky smile on his face and plays his usual game.

“Attractive blond tries to order me around? That’s kinda my thing,” he answers flirtatiously. He grins wider at the blush that spreads across the other’s pale face. The blond ducks his head but seems so surprised and dismayed that he doesn’t have his laptop open to readily hide behind that Bobby can’t help but laugh into his fist at the action, finding the behavior oddly adorable.

Flustered, Junhoe smacks his coffee cup with the back of his hand, knocking it over. A noise of distress escapes his lips as he futilely attempts to catch the cup before it tips over. Thankfully, he already finished drinking his coffee awhile ago, so nothing spills out. Bobby watches him, amused by his antics. And even if he still isn’t very impressed with his newfound soulmate, he at least finds that his interest has piqued.

“So?” Bobby prompts.

The blond still refuses to talk though, setting the cup upright with purpose before drawing away again, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. So Bobby pushes harder.

“So, are you going to tell me your name?”

The blond scowls at him. “I’m not interested,” he finally answers sharply. “And I don’t really like giving my name to shameless flirts.”

 _Too bad I already know it then_. Bobby smiles crookedly at the blond’s response, leaning in close enough that he moves his hand on top of the other’s laptop, tapping his fingers on the sleek cover. “Do you mind me asking, how do you ever get a date with that kind of attitude?” He licks his lips, observing how the blond’s face reddens though not in embarrassment this time, Bobby suspects. Biting his lip, he decides he wants to push this. “How do you expect to find your soulmate?”

Now the blond downright glares at him, lips pulled down into a deep frown. “Well then, I suppose it’s a good thing that you’re not him then, huh?” It takes more effort than Bobby expects not to just outright laugh at that statement. Oh, if only he knew. “And anyways, I don’t really care.”

“About what?”

“About my soulmate. I don’t care. She can do whatever the hell she wants so long as she leaves me out of it.”

Bobby winces at his words, not really hurt, but a bit turned off by the other’s attitude. And she? Well, Jinhwan wasn’t lying about this guy’s attitude towards soulmates. Too bad he can’t decide whether it’s a good or bad thing that he hadn’t outright told the other who he is.

“She?” he ventures daringly. “You got something against gays?”

“What? No!” He looks mildly offended that Bobby might of mistaken him as homophobic. “I just....is it not normal to assume my soulmate would be a girl?”

Bobby can’t help but smile fondly at the naivety of the statement. “Wait, so, like, you don’t actually know what you like? Dicks or vaginas?”

“We’re in public!” the blond hisses at him, but Bobby just waves him off.

He’d experimented quite a bit back in high school and even during his early years of college, and even now really - although that was really less “experimenting” a more just “enjoying himself.” Honestly he’d suspected his other half to be a girl too, what given the neat, elegant handwriting sprawled across his wrist. It’s the kind of handwriting he was used to seeing nearly ubiquitous among his female classmates in contrast to the barely legible handwriting he and most of the male population seemed to suffer from. And while sleeping with girls was awesome, he found he preferred the fairer sex less than his own. From then on he figured his soulmate was likely not a girl, though he admits he still expected someone much... _softer_ than the man he’s currently confronted with.

“So...your name?” Bobby asks, trying to change the subject.

The blond sighs. “You’re very persistent, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of it as I’m very goal oriented,” Bobby corrected. “I’ve got my eyes on the prize. Always.”

The blond’s cheeks turn a rosy pink, and, clearing his throat, he quickly opens up his laptop to resume his work. “Junhoe…” he says slowly, after a moment of hesitation.

Bobby grins, resisting the urge to say _I know_. “Junhoe,” he purrs instead, testing the name out on his lips for the first time. He doesn’t miss the shiver that runs down the other’s spine. “I’ll see you around.” Then he finally gathers up his belongings and leaves Junhoe on his own.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

“So, what do you think?” Jinhwan asks anxiously when Bobby comes to him for another refill.

“Not impressed,” is his answers. “I thought soulmates were suppose to be compatible?”

“They are,” Jinhwan insists as he refills Bobby’s coffee for him. “Just because you guys maybe clash and don’t understand each other now doesn’t mean that will always be the case. You’re _soulmates_. You must be compatible with each other.”

Bobby shakes a packet of sugar in preparation for his next cup of coffee, raising a brow at Jinhwan’s lack of elegance in his advice. “Yeah, or the universe thinks this is some kind of great cosmic joke.”

His friend doesn’t look the least bit amused as he hands Bobby his drink. “That’s not funny. Come on, Junhoe’s already pessimistic enough. This will never work if you’re like this too.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Bobby complains, dumping his sugar and a bit of cream into his coffee, “talking to that guy is like talking to a brick wall. The only times he talked to me was basically to tell me to fuck off _without_ actually telling me to fuck off. He’s cold as fuck.”

“He’s just slow to make friends. He wants to make sure that it’s not just a passing thing. You have to be persistent for him to understand,” Jinhwan defends. “Trust me, I know he can love deeply. He’s loyal, and he values his friends dearly. You just have to show him that you’re one of those people worth keeping close, and you definitely are. You’re his soulmate.”

But Bobby sighs at the advice, exasperated and tired. “Why do _I_ have to do it though? That seems incredibly one-sided, don’t you think?”

Jinhwan places his hands on his hips, and Bobby immediately cringes because - shit - that means his friend is going into his lecture mode. “Because,” he starts, totally in his lecture mode, “you’re the one who knows about being his soulmate, and you actually believe in this stuff, don’t you? Even if Junhoe knew, he’d probably do jackshit about it, convinced he could be happier with anyone else so long as he got to know them first.”

“Right, so be persistent. Got it.” Bobby takes a large gulp of his coffee, suddenly feeling much more worn and tired than he had before.

“And roses,” Jinhwan adds as an afterthought.

“Sure, roses.” Bobby really isn’t listening anymore.

“Junhoe is a secret romantic. Swear it!”

**  
  
  
  
  
**

“Alright, alright, so what do you think about this?” Hanbin asks him the next day, pen balanced between his fingers. He’s staring down at his notebook, but Bobby knows that his friend is talking to him. “I think the flow is better. I just - the words feel less sophisticated and -”

“Just read it,” Bobby cuts in, tapping the body of his guitar impatiently.

“Fine.” Hanbin makes a face while looking down at his notes to try and pound out the new line he’s just written down. Before he can begin though, they’re interrupted by a third party.

“Seriously?”

Both of them look up to see Junhoe standing beside Bobby, arms crossed over his chest though he’s holding a rose in one hand. Hanbin chokes on air and mutters, “oh, shit,” because this is his friend’s soulmate and - “shit, shit, shit.”

Junhoe spares him a brief glance for all the profanities spilling out of his mouth. When he returns his attention to Bobby, the other stares up at him, smiling innocently, and Junhoe’s lips twitch up into a slight sneer. Unfolding his arm, he shoves the rose out into Bobby’s face. “What is this?” he demands, referring to the flower in his hand.

The elder glances down at the flower for a moment before lifting his gaze back up to Junhoe. “Why, I think that is a rose,” he answers.

Junhoe sighs and rolls his eyes at the sarcastic answer. “I know that,” he snaps impatiently. “Why did you give it to me?”

Bobby smiles innocently at the blond. “What makes you think I gave it to you?” he teases.

The question has Junhoe faltering briefly, momentarily embarrassed that he might have just accused Bobby of something he hadn’t done. He quickly gathers himself though, refusing to admit he may be wrong. “You were here when I got here, and I found this on my laptop when I came back from the restroom.”

“So?”

Junhoe’s temper flares at the elder’s deflection. “So, you were flirting with me yesterday and now I get an anonymous rose on my table. What do you think you’re doing?”

Bobby licks his lips, staring first at the rose shoved in his face and then at Junhoe. “I think,” he drawls, shifting the guitar on his lap so that he can turn in his chair to face the blond, “that you don’t really like roses much, do you?”

Oddly enough, Junhoe appears caught off guard by Bobby’s observation, drawing the rose closer to himself. “What?” he sounds a bit defensive. “I never said that. I was just wondering - I was just asking why you would give me one.”

“Oh, so you do like roses.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point,” Junhoe stutters. “Why did you give me a rose? Here, take it back.” And he tries to shove the rose into Bobby’s hands.

The elder refuses to take it though, pushing Junhoe’s hand away from him. “If you like it, keep it,” he tells the blond. Then he turns in his seat to face Hanbin, effectively ending the conversation. The younger hesitates for a moment before placing the rose down beside Bobby’s coffee. Then he storms off back to his own table. The elder releases a sigh. “Stubborn,” he grumbles to himself. When he looks up at his friend he’s met with Hanbin’s gross gaping face. “Can I help you?” he asks rudely.

“You bought him a rose?” he asks, completely judgmental.

“I never said I gave that to him,” Bobby sniffs.

“Okay, but you didn’t deny it either,” his friend points out.

Holding his tongue for a moment to think, he ultimately decides to change tactics. “Is there something wrong with giving people roses?”

“It’s not really the giving of roses that concerns me. It’s _who_ you gave a rose to that does,” Hanbin corrects.

“Hey,” Bobby warns but he doesn’t sound the least bit threatening, “that’s my soulmate you’re currently insulting.”

Hanbin holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry,” he apologizes unapologetically. “Your soulmate is kind of a prick though.”

“I think he is a prick,” Bobby agrees jovially.

Hanbin stares at him. “And you’re just going to...accept that description?”

“You just met him, didn’t you?” Bobby shrugs dismissively. “Besides, I figure that if Jinhwan likes him, he must be nice somewhere deep down. I mean, like, deep, deep down. I’m sure. Or at least somewhat sure. Maybe.” He clears his throat when Hanbin raises a brow at him. “I mean, Jinhwan seems to like him, right?”

Hanbin nods his head in agreement. “Sure. But he’s your friend, I don’t really know his taste in friends. For all I know, he could have a poor moral barometer. He is friends with you after all.”

“Well, he doesn’t like pricks,” the elder declares, decidedly ignoring Hanbin’s jab at him. “So this guy must be at least a little nice deep down.”

“Very deep down,” Hanbin agrees.

Suddenly Bobby deflates, crumpling over his guitar in defeat. He groans loudly, patting the body of his instrument. “This was not what I was expecting,” he admits with a slight shake of his head. Junhoe is not at all what he expected in his soulmate.

“I know,” Hanbin coos, his sympathy falling flat due to the underlying mocking tone in his voice. “You poor, stupid, hopeless romantic. You’re stuck with someone like that.”

Lifting his head up, Bobby eyes the rose beside his coffee before offering it up to his friend. “Rose?”

Hanbin wrinkles his nose in distaste and vehemently shakes his head. “Ew, from you? No, thanks.”

With a sigh, Bobby drops the rose onto the table. “Fine. Be that way, asshat.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Junhoe releases a deep breath but keeps his eyes  focused on his laptop, determined to ignore the annoying vagrant in front of him. Of course, Bobby doesn’t get the message at all. He decides to go ahead and try to strike up a conversation.

“So are you free some time?”

Despite Junhoe’s resolve to ignore the other, he looks up at him at the question and instantly berates himself for it. His hand curls into a fist at the metaphoric defeat though he is careful not to show said defeat to Bobby. No need to tip the other off as to his small victory. “Excuse me?”

“Are you free sometime?” Bobby repeats, drawing patterns on the table with his finger. “Preferably sometime soon.”

Junhoe frowns. “Why?”

The elder shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “I thought you might want to go out sometime.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” the blond asks, clearly unimpressed.

“I’m asking you to hang out,” Bobby deflects easily enough.

“Right.”

“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to."

“No,” Junhoe says quickly. A bit too quickly. Bobby looks up at him while Junhoe clears his throat and looks away. “I’m not saying no...I guess I’m just wondering why you want to…hang out. With me.”

Bobby licks his lips and then grins. “Why do you sound so surprised that I’m asking you to hang out?” The blond makes a face at his question, ducking his head to hide behind his laptop. He tries to ignore the elder, waves his hand to try to dismiss his previous question like it’s nothing, but Bobby only leans in closer, silently prodding him for an answer.

Finally, Junhoe sighs and sinks lower in his seat out of shame. “I just...don’t get asked to hang out very often,” he mumbles.

“Oh?” Bobby hums, not sounding the least bit surprised by his words. “Hm. I wonder why that is.” At that, the blond manages to lift his head up to glare at the elder from over the top of his laptop only to be met with a grin from Bobby. “So, when are you free then? Let’s go watch a movie.”

“A movie?”

“Sure. It’s something friends usually do. Trust me,” Bobby teases. “You like horror movies?”

“Uhh.”

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Junhoe very clearly does not like horror movies though he seems determined not to indicate such to Bobby. Too bad the elder could tell with both his eyes closed. Almost throughout the whole movie, Junhoe opted to keep his eyes focused on his lap with intense concentration, filtering out any of the unpleasant graphic imagery from the movie. He also flinched whenever a piercing scream, loud noise, or otherwise intense music seemed to strike a nerve. Bobby himself hardly watches the movie because he’s too busy watching his soulmate’s reaction.

Eventually he leans over to Junhoe’s seat, knocking his elbow into the blond’s and startling him so much so that he jumps in his seat and rounds on Bobby. When his brain finally catches up though, he visibly calms down. “Scared?” Bobby teases lightly.

“No,” Junhoe flatly denies, briefly glancing up at the screen as if to prove a point. Currently another victim is being rather slowly murdered, and he quickly looks back down at his lap again, disturbed by the amount of gore and violence put into this movie. “I’m just...bored,” he lies.

“Oh.” Bobby pulls away, feigning his disappointing. “Sorry I picked a boring movie. I guess you should pick next time.”

Junhoe cringes, now realizing what he must have sounded like. “O-oh. I didn’t mean it like that,” he apologizes. Or tries to. “I don’t handle blood very well,” he admits truthfully.

Grinning in triumph, Bobby places his hand on Junhoe’s shoulder and squeezes it tightly. “I didn’t realize that. I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

Making it up to him apparently means buying him something to eat.

“Um, no, that’s okay,” Junhoe tries to turn down the offer. “It’s fine. I mean, even if I don’t really know what that movie was about at all, it was...nice to hang out with a friend.”

“Are we friends already?” Bobby asks a bit too eagerly.

“Well, maybe not friends yet,” Junhoe quickly amends, “but, uh, something.”

Bobby presses his lips together into a thin line. “I still feel bad though. At least let me buy you a beer. Just one drink won’t hurt, right?”

**  
  
  
  
  
**

One drink turns into two and then three and then Junhoe is drunker than he ever remembers being before. When Bobby hauls his drunk ass back to his apartment, he’s a slurring, uncoordinated mess. He giggles when Bobby manages to fish his keys out of his back pocket and open the door to his modest, little apartment with a flourish. “You’re home, princess,” he announces, yelping when Junhoe quite literally falls out of his arms laughing.

“I’m not a princess,” he admonishes drunkenly from his place on the floor.

“You sure about that?” Bobby teases even as he bends down to lift the blond off the floor. Of course, Junhoe isn’t much help, going limp in his arms, so Bobby is basically lifting dead weight. Grunting from the strain in his arms, Bobby manages to lift Junhoe back to his feet at which point the blond grimaces and curls in on himself.

“I don’t feel so good,” he mumbles.

“Then let’s get you to bed. Where’s your room?”

“Couch’s fine,” the blond slurs, pointing to the couch. It seems just barely long enough to fit Junhoe’s body on, but there’s a throw blanket draped over the back of it, and it seems like a good enough place to leave him while Bobby gets a glass of water and searches for his actual bedroom. So he deposits Junhoe gently on the couch and tucks him in with the throw blanket before wandering into the kitchen to get a glass of water and explore.

It doesn’t take him long to find what must be Junhoe’s bedroom, neatly made up and clean. A full size bed is tucked into the corner of the room between the window and desk, fully made. Bobby rolls his eyes. What a freak. Walking over to the desk, he places the water down at the edge near the bed. For later. Then he goes to retrieve the inebriated blond.

“Where’s your pain medication?” Bobby asks him as he half carries, half drags Junhoe into the bedroom.

Humming, Junhoe squints before finally planting his feet on the ground to walk. “Pain meds? Why do you want pain meds?”

“You’ll need them for later,” Bobby explains.

Junhoe runs his fingers through his hair while stumbling over to his bed, collapsing onto the mattress. “Then get them later,” he suggests, snuggling into his pillow before rolling over to make more room. He pats the empty space on his bed invitingly to which Bobby raises his brows.

“Are you inviting me into bed?” he asks teasingly while walking closer.

Junhoe suddenly sits up. “Not to fuck,” he says, at least self-aware enough to know now is not the time for sex, before flopping back down. “Now c’mere.”

Bobby crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing Junhoe’s form for a moment but he doesn’t try to climb into bed much to Junhoe’s annoyance. “I should probably get going,” he says when the blond voices his complaints. He tries to leave, but Junhoe suddenly leaps up - surprisingly nimble for a drunk - and throws his arms around Bobby’s shoulders to pull him down.

Something wet presses up against the right side of his cheek and nose, and Bobby belatedly realizes that Junhoe has just tried to kiss him but missed miserably. “Okay.” Bobby pushes him back down onto the bed and then reaches up to wipe the spit off his face. “What was that suppose to be?”

“A kiss,” Junhoe answers boldly with a grin plastered on his face. “I want a kiss.”

And Bobby shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t because Junhoe is super drunk, and Bobby can already imagine his reaction when he wakes up in the morning if he’s half-undressed after a night out with him. But Junhoe looks lovely and warm for once laid across his bed, and impulse gets the better of him in an instant. Bobby dives down, pressing his lips over Junhoe’s open mouth.

The blond somehow manages to pull Bobby on top of him, arms still wrapped stubbornly around his shoulders and neck. Bobby plants his hands on either side of Junhoe’s head for balance before he continues to ravage the younger’s mouth. Bobby licks into Junhoe’s mouth and their tongues tangle together briefly before the elder pulls away because Junhoe is drunk and uncoordinated and, honestly, kissing him in this condition is a little too wet and gross for Bobby’s taste.

“Mmm, you’re good at this,” Junhoe purrs, leaning up for another kiss.

Bobby pushes him back down with one hand pressed against his chest then goes for the blond’s neck. He trails kisses down Junhoe’s long, pale neck. When he reaches the junction of the younger’s neck and shoulder, he finds the collar of Junhoe’s shirt in his way. Pulling the shirt down, he bares the blond’s collarbone and shoulder for him which he promptly, and probably stupidly, sucks a hickey onto.

“Try not to regret this in the morning,” he murmurs against the younger’s collarbone. He only receives a breathy moan and request for a kiss in response.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Hanbin is late.

Bobby checks his watch again and sighs impatiently. It’s already 12:30, and Hanbin was supposed to meet him at Jinhwan’s coffee shop at 11. He’s already sent a dozen texts to his friend, ranging from angry to concerned, but Hanbin had only responded half an hour ago that he was sorry and on his way.

So he jumps a little in his seat when a messenger bag is throw into the seat across from him, and Junhoe sits down in front of him. He places his laptop on top of the table and then releases a deep breath as he leans back in his seat. Bobby stares at him speechlessly, mouth hanging open in a gape. Junhoe glances around the coffee shop before addressing the elder. “Where’s your awful friend?”

 _Awful friend?_ Bobby wrinkles his nose. Who is he talking about - oh. “You mean Hanbin? Being late as fuck. He probably partied last night. Idiot still thinks he’s in college.”

Junhoe makes a noise in the back of his throat and opens up his laptop. Meanwhile Bobby shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of what Junhoe is doing here still. “I noticed some….interesting marks on my neck this morning,” the blond brings up casually.

 _Oh, shit_. Bobby resists the urge to facepalm. “What do you mean interesting?” he asks instead, trying to feign innocence even if it’s probably futile.

“Hickeys,” Junhoe deadpans causing Bobby to flinch. “And against my better judgment I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“What do you mean?”

“I…blacked out,” Junhoe reluctantly admitted.

Bobby blanched at that. Christ, he knew Junhoe got smashed yesterday, but he hadn’t anticipated the younger blacking out. “You _blacked out?_ ”

Junhoe clears his throat a bit awkwardly as he pulls up some things on his computer. “I can’t remember what happened after I tried to go to the bathroom at the restaurant. I don’t know how I got home. I only know I woke up with a glass of water and pain meds by my bedside. Thank you for that.”

“You’re....welcome.”

Junhoe pursed his lips into a thin line after that. Bobby couldn’t help but think the blond had something to say. Licking his lips, the elder glances to the front door, impatiently waiting for Hanbin to burst through them and save him from the awkwardness, but, of course, his friend is a no show. Then he looks over to the bar where Jinhwan is working, but he is too busy making orders to offer any kind of silent support. On his own, Bobby resigns himself to a painful conversation.

“So, what is it?”

Junhoe opens his mouth and then closes it. He looks up at Bobby and then back down at his computer. Bobby braces himself. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I thought you said you blacked out.”

“I blacked out,” Junhoe reaffirms, “but I’m also not an idiot. Why did you do it?”

Bobby opts for a new approach. “You said you’d give me the benefit of the doubt.” One withering glare from the other has him backtracking on that defense though. “Okay, fine. We made out, _but_ ,” he stresses when Junhoe sneers and makes to hit him, “I would just like to point out that I did not kiss you. You kissed me.”

“What? Why would I -”

“Because you were drunk and found me dashingly handsome?”

Junhoe does not look amused. “Do you want me to smack you right now?”

Bobby instinctively flinches away, holding his hands up to protect from any incoming punches. “No, no. That’s quite alright. Um, how can I make this up to you then?”

For a long, drawn out moment, the blond remains silent, pondering over Bobby’s question. “Buy me dinner,” he says carefully after thinking it over. When Bobby lifts his head up, Junhoe points a finger at him to clarify. “Just dinner. Actually this time. No alcohol.”

Bobby nods his head complicitly. “Sure.”

**  
  
  
  
  
**

They don’t go anywhere high end, but Bobby picks a place nice enough that Junhoe eyes a glass of red wine from the menu, eventually ordering it while Bobby internally cringes at the blow to his wallet. What happened to the no alcohol rule anyways? When asked what he would like to drink, Bobby kisses a sweet soda good-bye and orders a simple water instead.

“So, you’re a journalist then?” Bobby asks after the waiter’s taken their menus away.

Junhoe looks up at him, surprised. “How’d you know that?”

“Saw an article you wrote in the newspaper the other day,” Bobby half-lies. He had read an article out of curiosity, but Jinhwan was the one who told him about the journalism thing. “Rather depressing views you’ve got there about soulmates.”

Junhoe shrugs off the comment. “What about you?” he changes the subject.

“Me? Oh, well, I’m what you’d call a starving artist I guess.” Bobby grins at the arch of Junhoe’s eyebrow. “I like writing music. I like making music. That’s what Hanbin and I do at the coffee shop all day everyday pretty much. We’re still looking for a studio - any studio really - to sign us. Or at least let us use their equipment. There’s only so much a laptop can do for you.”

“Oh. I see. That sounds...interesting.” But despite Junhoe’s off putting words Bobby can tell that he does seem mildly intrigued by the answer and he makes a mental note to maybe get the blond to listen to a few things in the future.

“Well, so I’m actually rather curious about your stance, you know,” he changes the subject once more. The waiter comes back with the drinks then, and Bobby thanks him before looking back at Junhoe. “The whole soulmate thing. I think you’re actually the first person I’ve met so vehemently against it. Explain.”

But Junhoe stays quiet, swirling the wine in his glass gently while staring forlornly down at the dark red liquid. It’s no matter though. Bobby is patient, so he patiently waits for the younger to answer. “I don’t know my soulmate,” he eventually answers although it’s hardly an answer at all.

Bobby arches a brow at him and has to resist the urge to say “well, no shit, Sherlock. I’m sitting right here, and you’re blind as fuck, by the way.” He clears his throat instead, folding his hands on top of the table. But that action feels too awkward and formal, so he reaches for his glass of water instead. “Right, but when you meet him or her…”

“ _If_ I meet her,” Junhoe corrects.

Bobby rolls his eyes when the blond isn’t looking. “When,” he insists stubbornly. “Soulmates always come together. Sometimes late, sometimes early, but always. That’s the point of having one. And when you meet that person -”

“It doesn’t matter if I meet that person,” Junhoe cuts in. “I still wouldn’t know my soulmate. That’s my whole problem with it. Saying that the universe picked out the perfect person for me is - it’s ludicrous. I don’t want that. I want to be able to choose who I love.”

Bobby pushes the lemon wedge in his water to the bottom of the glass with his straw and then proceeds to mash it up with said straw while listening to Junhoe’s rant. He gets it. He thinks. Junhoe doesn’t believe in fate, and Bobby thinks he can understand that at least. “So you don’t believe in fate, do you?” he asks for clarification.

“No, I don’t. Fate is stupid and requires more faith then I’m ready to fork over.”

“Fate is written on the inside of your wrist,” Bobby points out, eyeing Junhoe’s hand holding onto the wine glass. The blond momentarily pauses at those words, eyes trailing down to his wrist, He pointedly pulls the sleeves of his shirt up higher in response. “Were you raised this way? Or did something happen to make you so cynical about fate?”

“God no,” Junhoe answers, but Bobby doesn’t know which question it is an answer to. “My parents are hopeless romantics. They instilled in me stories about soulmates. How wonderful it would be. How I would just know is what they said. They taught me to have a blind, unadulterated faith that the universe would work to make me happy.”

“But?”

Junhoe takes a small sip of his wine before continuing. “It’s not any great event or epiphany that changed my mind, if that’s the kind of story you’re expecting,” he warns the older. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of all the hope my parents instilled in me, but I just realized one day that it wasn’t special. None of it was. What was special about what’s written on my wrist? People have said this phrase to me many times over the years, and I got tired of feeling hopeful every time. None of it felt special. These words aren’t special. How can soulmates be special?”

 _Well_ , Bobby straightens up in his seat, _that’s a rather depressing disposition_. Nonetheless, he thinks he understands Junhoe’s point of view. After all, he didn’t feel anything particularly special about Junhoe’s first words to him - probably would have thought nothing further of it if he hadn’t seen Junhoe’s memo pad. “maybe that’s the point,” he comments. “Maybe it’s not suppose to be anything fantastical. They’re just someone meant for you.”

The blond observes him critically for a moment before turning his attention back to his wine, taking another sip. “So, what about you then? What’s your take on soulmates?”

Bobby shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his lemon water through the straw. “I don’t know. I guess that I don’t really have an opinion. I mean, I do see your point, but I suppose I have to admit that I would like to believe in soulmates. I’d like to believe in my soulmate at least.”

“Naive,” Junhoe murmurs into his wine glass.

Bobby grins, taking his words as a challenge. “We’ll see about that.” The rest of dinner is spent in relative silence. They don’t discuss the topic of soulmates any further.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Bobby accompanies Junhoe all the way to the blond’s front door at the younger’s insistence that it is only the polite thing to do. He’s perfectly sober right now - thank God - despite his glass of wine earlier that evening. Now, in front of his door, he pauses, placing Bobby in a rather awkward and confusing position. He waits for the younger to go inside so that he can leave, but Junhoe stubbornly stays put with his eyes fixed on his door.

“Okay.” Bobby clears his throat awkwardly. “So, I’m going to go now....”

“Wait,” Junhoe barks before Bobby can even take one step away from him. He freezes at the command, curious as to what the blond could possibly want from him now. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, well you’re home, so I figured I would also go home now…” Bobby scratches the back of his neck, unsure as to why exactly he needs to explain himself to the younger.

Junhoe looks at him then, lips pressed into a hard line, and Bobby internally groans. Shit, now what has he done wrong. “What? That’s it?” the blond demands.

Bobby literally has no idea what he means. “Why? Is there something more you need?”

Junhoe flushes suddenly and looks down at the floor. Bobby finds it both endearing and annoying as fuck how the other can go from angry and demanding to shy and bashful in less than a second. “Well, it’s just last time…”

Well, last time involved giving Junhoe hickeys while he was in a drunken stupor. Somehow he gets the feeling that the blond probably isn’t talking about that though. “Just last time what?” Bobby prompts.

Junhoe fidgets, fingers twisting into the hem of his shirt. He seems reluctant to say anything further, but Bobby honestly doesn’t know what he’s trying to get at, so he stands around and waits out the awfully pregnant silence that follows. After a moment Junhoe tries again. “Last time you said - you said that I...kissed you.” The words come out a bit choked, like Junhoe had a hard time just stringing them together into a coherent sentence.

“Oh.” Bobby responds intelligently though in his head he’s cursing himself out. _Shit, shit, shit, shit. Now what? Should have never opened my fucking big mouth._

Junhoe suddenly looks affronted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just think that, in order to be fair, you should....you know.” He doesn’t finish the thought though Bobby doesn’t expect he will. He’s already practically talking to the floor instead, and his cheeks look nice and rosy.

“You want me to kiss you this time?” Bobby asks, not teasing for once, but just to make sure so he doesn’t do anything stupid. Of course, in Junhoe’s opinion asking that question is stupid because he turns his head over to glare at the elder, and Bobby almost, _almost_ expects him to hiss or something.

“You know what? Nevermind. Just forget I said anything,” Junhoe tells him, fishing out his keys so he can open the front door.

Abruptly, Bobby leaps into action as Junhoe unlocks his door. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” he protests while reaching out to snatch the younger by the wrist. The blond weakly tries to pull his arm away which only encourages Bobby to tighten his grip on Junhoe’s wrist. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you, you know.”

Junhoe refuses to look at the elder as he says, “I know. But I’m asking you to forget about it now so…” He attempts to pull his arm away from Bobby again pointedly.

“Are you kidding me?” Bobby scoffs. With his free hand, he reaches out and opens the door to Junhoe’s apartment, dragging the blond in behind him. The younger sputters and struggles as he’s pulled into his own apartment rather bizarrely against his will. Bobby releases his grasp on the younger once the door is closed behind them. Then he proceeds to bully Junhoe over to the couch, pushing him down onto it.

“What are you doing?” Junhoe demands, trying to stand up only for Bobby to push him back down.

Bobby doesn’t answer verbally. Instead he places one knee next to Junhoe’s hip so that he can kneel on the couch, and he places his hands at the base of Junhoe’s neck. The blond shivers at the contact, pressing himself back into the couch while his hands instinctively raise up to grip Bobby’s by the wrist.

The blond parts his lips to speak again, but Bobby doesn’t give him the chance, taking that moment to kiss him. Immediately Junhoe’s grip on Bobby’s wrist tightens, and he squeezes his eyes shut, squirming a bit when he feels the elder’s tongue against his own. And then as soon as it starts Bobby pulls away leaving Junhoe a panting mess on the couch.

“Fair?” Bobby asks, running his thumb across the other’s collarbone.

Junhoe takes in a few more deep breaths while loosening his grip on Bobby’s wrists. When he finally opens his eyes, he easily meets the elder’s gaze. Against his better judgment, his gaze then drops down to Bobby’s lips. Based on the grin that spreads across the elder’s face, Bobby clearly notices. Oh, what the hell? “One more,” Junhoe demands.

Still grinning, Bobby lifts his hand up to cup the blond’s face this time as he leans down to kiss the younger again.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Hanbin is suppose to be writing lyrics for this music score Bobby created a week ago, but he discovers that he can’t move his hand across the paper because he’s too distracted by the blond sitting across from him. His eyes keep darting between his friend next to him and the stranger across from him. Bobby distracts himself with his own work while Junhoe keeps himself hidden behind his laptop. Basically it looks an awful lot like they’re trying to avoid Hanbin so that he won’t say anything to them.

Too bad for them Hanbin doesn’t have a shameful bone in his body. “So, are you guys, like, dating or what?” he asks with absolutely no class. Bobby lifts his head up to look at his friend while Junhoe hunches further down into his seat.

“No,” the blond answers curtly.

Bobby’s gaze snaps over to the blond, looking mildly offended by that response. Then, he turns back to his friend and chooses to overtly refute the younger’s earlier statement. “Yes, we are. Actually.”

Finally Junhoe lifts his head up enough to glare at Bobby from over the top of his laptop. “No,” he insists stubbornly, “we’re not.”

The elder sighs and rolls his eyes at Junhoe’s obnoxious behavior but tries hard not to show how much his words actually hurt. “We’ve gone out together, I’ve already been to your apartment - I’ve made out with you in your apartment. Twice now.” He ignores the wolf whistle from Hanbin in favor of staring pointedly at the blond.

“You guys have already kissed? How was it?” Hanbin pries.

“Shut up,” Bobby snaps though his tone lacks any venom to it. He’s too focused on Junhoe right now to bother with his stupid best friend. The blond had gone silent, lips set into a thin, hard line as he stares stubbornly at his computer screen.

Of course, Jinhwan chooses that moment to interrupt to hand Bobby his refill on coffee. “Here, lazy,” he grumbles while setting the coffee down on the table. Then he suddenly appears to tune into the frigid air that has settled over the three of them. He looks between all occupants of the table before wisely deciding to opt for a retreat. “Okay, well, I’ll just be behind the counter if you guys need anything….yeah, um, bye.”

“You wouldn’t happen to need any help, would you?” Hanbin asks as he jumps up from his seat to leave Junhoe and Bobby on their own. “I could just stand there and hold things if you need.”

Once they’re both gone, Bobby immediately rears on the younger. “Okay, what’s your problem?” he asks, straight to the point.

“What’s _your_ problem?” Junhoe retorts. “We are not dating, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around bragging to your friends that we are.”

Annoyed Bobby scoots his chair closer, scoffing. “First of all,” he lists off on his fingers, “I am not bragging about this. Trust me. There’s not much to brag about.” He ignores the offended look on Junhoe’s face, barreling onwards. “Secondly, what the fuck will it take for you? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg you to go out with me or something? I’ll ask you out ‘officially’ or whatever if that’s what you want.”

“No, I don’t want that because I don’t want to go out with you,” Junhoe hisses.

Bobby is speechless. He stares at the younger wordlessly for a long, tense moment before he just...gives up. “Fine,” he tuts back. He carefully and pointedly begins to gather his and Hanbin’s belongings, making a neat stack of papers, notebooks, and pens to easily pick up while Junhoe watches him with growing alarm. 

“What are you doing?” the younger asks.

“Uh, moving,” Bobby answers curtly, “literally anywhere else.”

“Why?”

“Well, think,” the elder snaps. When he has all his items gathered, he scoops them up in his arms and stands up to leave.

“I - I didn’t mean what I said like that,” Junhoe tries to protest.

“Oh really?” But Bobby isn’t even paying him any attention, already moving over to an empty table he spots on the other side of the coffee shop. “Well, I can’t imagine what else you could have meant by that.” He passses by Hanbin on his way over, his friend staring at him with wide eyes, and Bobby knows he wants to ask something, but he shakes his head once. No, not now.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

It’s three days later before Hanbin says anything related to the incident with Junhoe. “He’s still not here,” he notes, almost to himself.

Bobby lifts his head to look at Hanbin, but the younger is too busy staring off into space to notice. “Who are you talking about?”

“The blond kid. Your soulmate. Junhoe or whatever.” Hanbin finally focuses his attention on his friend, eyebrows furrowed together. He looks thoughtful. “It’s been three days now, and he still hasn’t come back.”

“Oh, no,” Bobby responds soullessly, “whatever shall we do?”

“I wonder where he is,” Hanbin ponders aloud.

“Who knows? Who cares?” is Bobby’s harsh response to the younger’s curiosity.

Hanbin frowns at Bobby’s attitude and tone of voice. “Harsh,” he comments.

“Don’t care,” Bobby responds automatically.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Four days later, Jinhwan stomps up to Bobby and Hanbin’s table, expression twisted into one of fury. In fact, the first thing he does is smack Bobby on the arm which the younger protests vehemently to. No need for excessive force, he keeps whining to his friend. “What did you do?” Jinhwan demands.

“I don’t know. What did I do?” Bobby flinches away when Jinhwan raises his hand to hit him again.

The elder presses his lips into a thin, angry line, and he looks like he’s ready to hit his friend again but he manages to keep his arm by his side. “To Junhoe,” Jinhwan elaborates curtly. “What did you do to Junhoe?”

Bobby rolls his eyes and pouts pitifully at his friend. “I like how you accuse _me_ of causing all the problems. I’ll have you know this is all _his_ fault actually. Did you ever think maybe you should be yelling and abusing him instead?”

“I saw Junhoe over the weekend. He said he hasn’t been coming by because of you. He said he’s afraid. _Junhoe? Afraid?_ ” Jinhwan crosses his arms over his chest and stares pointedly down at his friend. “So explain. Right now. Tell me your side of the story.”

“Parade? What parade?” Bobby asks, side-tracked.

“The soulmate one. It’s just like a pride parade. Junhoe had to write a story on it - and, hey, that’s not the point! Stop trying to distract me. What happened?”

With a frown, Bobby shrugs his shoulders and answer, “Junhoe’s a dick. _That’s_ what happened.”

Jinhwan smacked him on the arm again - hard enough for Bobby to release a whispery “ow” and cradle his abused limb. “You,” the elder begins, pointing a finger in Bobby’s face, but he can’t seem to think of what to say next. “You...fine. I don’t know what happened, but I guess...fine. Whatever. I don’t know happened, but...whatever.” If he’s angry at Bobby it doesn’t really show as he turns and walks away without another word. Bobby chooses not to say anything either, not believing that he really has any reason to explain himself.

A week later Junhoe’s story comes out, and Bobby can tell because he walks up to Jinhwan while the elder is reading over the newspaper. He doesn’t even say anything as he hands his tumbler over as usual. Jinhwan grumbles as he crumples up the newspaper and throws it aside, snatching up Bobby’s tumbler moodily.

The younger scratches the bridge of his nose, and, curiously, reaches out to grab the crumpled up newspaper on the counter. As he unfolds the newspaper to the story Jinhwan must have been reading, his friend throws a “this is all your fault” at him from over his shoulder. Raising a brow at that accusation, he looks down and begins reading. The article is mostly informative, for the most part, discussing the history, background, and purpose of the pride parade but with more than unnecessary scathing remarks about soulmates. Yeah, definitely something Junhoe would write.

“I was hoping he’d finally write something nice about soulmates,” Jinhwan laments, handing Bobby his coffee. “You could have changed him.”

Bobby takes his coffee from his friend. “I really don’t give a shit,” he responds. Maybe he could have changed the blond, but he really doesn’t care anymore because he really doesn’t like him.

Jinhwan makes a face before sighing. “Yeah, I know.”  

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Nearly a month passes by before Bobby catches sight of Junhoe again. For that near entire month, Jinhwan has given him the cold shoulder, only ever speaking when Bobby talks to him. It’s a bit hellish and totally uncalled for and - ugh, fine! - Bobby would be willing to talk to Junhoe if it meant appeasing his best friend, but the blond still refuses to come by the coffee shop, and somehow Bobby doesn’t feel quite right going all the way to Junhoe’s house to try and make up.

So he suffers through the month feeling so wronged by Jinhwan and Junhoe. Are they ganging up on him or something? He makes a face as he picks up a jar of peanut butter at the supermarket. Tossing it up and catching it again, he walks out of the aisle, making his way over to the cashier only to stop short because his eyes catch sight of blond hair - shit is that Junhoe?

He stops and stares, watching a bit creepily as Junhoe bags a couple of green onions, dumping it into his basket before moving on to examine some of the zucchinis. Bobby swallows thickly and approaches.

“Hey.” He startles Junhoe from his zucchinis.

Junhoe looks up to Bobby, clearly startled by the elder’s sudden appearance. Slowly, reluctantly, he places the squash in his hand back down. “Uh, hi,” he returns the greeting. Then he grips his basket and turns on his heels in an attempt to flee.

Well, Bobby supposes he should have seen that one coming. He lunges for Junhoe’s free hand, grasping him by the wrist and pulling him back around. “Wait,” he says to which Junhoe reluctantly turns to face him. Now that he has Junhoe’s attention though, he isn’t sure what he wants to say. “You haven’t been to Jinhwan’s shop lately,” he ends up noting for lack of anything else that comes to mind.

“Yeah.” Junhoe looks down at his wrist where Bobby’s hand is. Awkwardly, Bobby releases his hold on the younger, allowing his hand to drop back to his side. “Um, is that all?”

“No, I -” Bobby pauses, eyeing the the basket in Junhoe’s hand. “Here. I can hold that for you if you want,” he offers politely.

“Um, no. That’s okay,” Junhoe denies, sputtering when Bobby reaches out to take it from him anyways. He drops his jar of peanut butter in there along with all of Junhoe’s other groceries. “Oh. Okay then.”

Bobby stares down at the groceries in the basket with a slight frown on his face. How to proceed from here? “Look,” he says, tugging at one of his earlobes, “I won’t lie to you or anything. I’m trying to make nice with you right now, I guess.”

“Oh.” Junhoe shifts his weight from foot to foot, biting his lip. “Well, you don’t have to carry my basket to make nice or anything. I don’t know. I’m not even really mad at you, you know.” He curls his fingers into a loose fist. “Your response was….reasonable at the very least.”

“Why’d you say it then?” Bobby asks a little more forcefully than he intends or thinks is a good idea.

In response, Junhoe casts his eyes to the floor and instinctively steps back. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play me.” God dammit. In spite of himself, Bobby can feel his anger bubbling forth to the surface again. He tries to rein it in, really, but he’s already snapping at Junhoe. “You make out with me twice and then turn around and say you wouldn’t want to date me in the first place. Who the hell does that? That’s fucked up, dude.”

“I already told you that I didn’t mean it like that,” Junhoe says both weakly and vaguely.

Bobby tilts his chin up a little and would have crossed his arms over his chest if he weren’t holding the grocery basket. “Then how did you mean it?” he demands. Okay, so maybe he isn’t quite good at this whole making nice thing. At least not with Junhoe.

“I just meant...well, I don’t have much of an interest in soulmates, but you do…” he mentions. Oh. Oh, no. Bobby’s lips part in a silent “ah” because Junhoe really doesn’t have to say anything more. The elder already knows where this train of thought ends. Shit. Now he feels kind of bad. “When I told you that, I didn’t say it because I didn’t like you or because I was trying to be mean. I just don’t want to take that opportunity away from you, okay? If you met your soulmate. Or when, I guess. It doesn’t really matter.”

“It does matter,” Bobby replies automatically, setting the grocery basket on the ground next to his feet. A heavy sigh escapes his lips as he runs his fingers messily through his hair. “There’s something I need to tell you -”

Junhoe holds his hand up to stop him. “No,” he answers preemptively. “Even if you ask to make it official, I will still refuse to go out with you. I just told you why, didn’t I? So don’t, please.”

Bobby raises a brow at him before smacking his hand away. “I wasn’t going to ask you out. I have to tell you something else. Come with me.” He walks past Junhoe, grabbing the younger by the sleeve of his shirt to much protest and squirming. Junhoe whines and tries to pull free because what about all those groceries! He needs food in his apartment, but his complaints fall on deaf ears as Bobby drags him out of the supermarket.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

He leads the whiny blond all the way to his little apartment. It’s not that much smaller than Junhoe’s, but space looks limited what with all the clothes, dishes, and other miscellaneous junk laying around everywhere. Junhoe hunches into himself a little as he eyes the mess around him. He works hard to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose and sneer. A well-developed neat freak, he feels completely out of his element in this messy apartment.

Bobby abandons him at the entrance to head for his coffee table. He picks up one of those cheap 100-page spiral notebooks - the cover is yellow and with what look like numerous coffee mug stains decorating it - which he promptly tosses to Junhoe. Caught off guard, the younger merely freezes and cringes as the notebook hits him square on the chest.

“Look at it,” Bobby orders.

Frowning, Junhoe bends down to pick it up before flipping the notebook open to stare down at all the scribbled words there. Many of them are crossed out with something different written over it, and Junhoe is, by far, a great writer, but his expertise is in journalism, not lyricism. When he glances up at Bobby for a hint of what to say, the elder is watching him both anxiously and expectantly. Unfortunately Junhoe has nothing useful to say. “Um, look. I know I’m a writer and all, but you probably don’t want my advice on your lyrics.”

Groaning, Bobby rolls his eyes and moves around the coffee table to approach the blond. He takes the notebook with one hand and grabs Junhoe’s hand with the other. He leads the younger over to his kitchen table - covered in bills and other junk mail which he sweeps to the side. With a clear space now available, he drops the notebook onto the table, opened to a random page. Then he pulls Junhoe closer, pushing up the right sleeve of his jacket to reveal his tattoo. Tugging the younger closer still, Bobby places Junhoe’s wrist next to the notebook for easy comparison. “ _Now_ look,” he commands.

Junhoe stares at the chicken scratch handwriting in the notebook before his eyes slide over to the words imprinted across the inside of his wrist, taking in the similar handwriting - Junhoe yanks his arm back like he’s been burned. “No,” he denies, holding his wrist close. He tilts his head to the side, brows furrowed, as he scans the sheet again. Fast as lightning he glances down at the words printed across his wrist one more time for good measure. “That’s....” Come to think of it, hadn’t the first time they met been when Bobby asked if he could borrow a chair?

Suddenly he turns to Bobby, snatching the elder by the wrist before he can react, but Bobby doesn’t fight him. He stays eerily calm and silent while Junhoe pulls up the sleeve of his hoodie and twists his arm up to stare at Bobby’s own mark. Sure enough Junhoe sees his own neat handwriting scrawled across the elder’s wrist.

With a scowl he pushes the elder away from him. “How long did you know?” he demands.

Bobby shrugs while pulling down the sleeve of his hoodie again. Somehow it feels wrong to bare his tattoo. “Since the beginning. It’s why I even talked to you in the first place.” The betrayed look on Junhoe’s face is enough to make him cast his eyes downward in guilt. “I didn’t say anything because Jinhwan advised me not to. He said for sure that it would drive you away. So I kept it to myself. Sorry.”

“ _Sorry?_ ” Junhoe repeats incredulously. “You kept that to yourself for this fucking long and all you’re going to say is sorry!”

Bobby holds up his hands in surrender, nodding his head sagely while Junhoe rants and chew him out. “I know, I know,” he acknowledges. “It was wrong of me to lie to you and may I burn in hell for all the sins I have committed. Amen.” Junhoe doesn’t appear amused by his comment, however, so Bobby hunches his shoulders and turns slightly away. Shit. So much for trying to diffuse the situation.

“That’s not funny,” Junhoe deadpans, arms crossed over his chest.

Sighing, Bobby flips the notebook closed while he struggles to organize his thoughts. “I didn’t keep it from you to make you angry.” He ends up weakly defending himself instead.

“Then why did you keep it to yourself?”

Bobby should probably answer him, but he’s honestly a bit distracted by the fact that Junhoe is even still here humoring him. So much so that he only snaps out of his thoughts when Junhoe clears his throat impatiently. His lips part to speak though his words catch in his throat.

“Well?” Junhoe prompts impatiently.

It’s at that moment that Bobby realizes that he feels a little frightened. Whatever he says, however he says it, feels like it will determine whether or not Junhoe stays or leaves. Call him paranoid, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Bobby knows that what he says next may be the end of it all.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to have a chance,” he finally replies. Junhoe stays put, however his expression gives nothing away, remaining neutral, so Bobby takes the chance to elaborate. “I wasn’t lying, you know, when I said I could see your point of view on the whole soulmate thing. And, no offense, but it was kind of because you are my soulmate.” Junhoe bristles, puffing up a bit at the insult, but surprisingly manages to keep quiet. Bobby grins at his reaction.

“You didn’t really seem like my type at first. I understood your point then. Personally, I couldn’t see how we could be soulmates when, well, we didn’t seem like we could even get along nor did we have much in common. I’m sure you felt the same way before, maybe you still do.” Bobby shrugs his shoulders then licks his lips. “But you are right, you know. I do believe in soulmates, so even if I thought we were kind of an odd match, I wanted to prove to myself that fate is right.”

“And did you? Prove it, I mean.”

Bobby wets his lips again, unsure if Junhoe just asked out of curiosity of if he’s issued a challenge instead. “I was ready to ask you out a month ago. Of course I’ve come to my conclusion. I think the real question is if, hypothetically speaking that is, I asked you out now would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically, probably not,” Junhoe responds without the slightest bit of hesitation. He looks offended when Bobby sighs and hunches his shoulders in disappointment. “You kept this from me! This very important thing that you should have told me about!” He shakes his arm at the elder.

“You’re the one who says it’s nothing special!” Bobby snaps back defensively. “Those are your words, remember? So if it’s nothing special, why is it such a huge deal to you now?”

“Because…” Junhoe trails off, not really having an argument for that.

“I’m not telling you this because I think it’s special or because I want you to suddenly think of me differently. I’m telling you because this is why you rejected me.” Bobby flips the notebook close, setting it aside with a quiet, resigned sigh. “It was cute. Your sentiment, you know. And you’re right. I don’t want to have an opportunity to be with my soulmate taken away because I’m a stupid romantic.”

Junhoe doesn’t say anything in response. He doesn’t do anything other than stare at Bobby either, but the elder can see his lips quivering. Nervous. “Look,” he says softly, taking a little step towards Junhoe. The blond doesn’t back away. “I’m not asking you to go out with me because you know we’re soulmates now. I’m asking you to go out with me because I’ve already taken you on a date and we’ve made out twice.” He scoffs at Bobby’s reasoning, but the elder doesn’t care because he knows his teasing has made a point.

“So,” he begins with much more confidence, “will you go out with me?”

Junhoe doesn’t answer with words, wordlessly nodding his head in response. It’s good enough though, and his eyes slide shut as the elder pulls him over for a kiss.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

One kiss turns into many kisses which turns into a full blown makeout session - again - which somehow results in them undressing each other.

“You’re way hornier when you’re sober,” Bobby jokes when Junhoe tugs off his shirt as the blond falls onto the edge of Bobby’s bed.

“I’m not,” he denies hotly even while tugging the elder closer by the hem of his jeans.  

Bobby quirks a brow and drawls, “Right.” Junhoe’s wearing a button up shirt which is considerably harder to take off, but he manages to slide it off the blond fairly quickly. “When you got blackout drunk you invited me into your bed, you know,” he whispers against the blond’s lips. “But you even told me that it wasn’t to have sex. You’re way hornier sober.”

Scowling up at him, Junhoe removes his hands from Bobby’s pants as if to prove a point, but the elder doesn’t care. He pushes the blond down onto his back and starts undoing the button of his jeans with one hand. “What? Are you saying you would have taken advantage of me if I hadn’t clarified?” Junhoe snarks, shivering when a thumb strokes over his collarbone.

“Of course not,” Bobby gasps. “I was trying to make you like me, remember? And anyways,” he shimmies out of his pants and underwear before crawling over Junhoe to straddle him. Placing one hand next to the blond’s head to brace himself, he reaches down with his other to palm Junhoe’s crotch. The blond seizes up at the sensation, a breathy moan falling from his lips. Still palming the younger to hardness, Bobby leans down and breathes into his ear, “I’ve tried drunk sex. I’m not a fan.”

Then he leans back and pulls the last of Junhoe’s garments down his long, skinny legs. Carelessly tossing them to the ground, he grins like a pleased cat at the sight before him. Junhoe, he thinks to himself, looks pretty beautiful naked, especially when his chest heaves up and down like that.

“You’re so pale,” he compliments. Junhoe bites his bottom lip bashfully, cheeks turning a rosy red color. At that moment, however, Bobby grins deviously, wrapping one hand around Junhoe’s cock, causing the blond to jerk. “Except for right here,” he drawls, pressing his thumb into the tip of the blond’s penis, rubbing at the precum. Junhoe arches his back and turns his head to the side so he isn’t staring up at Bobby. Not a sound escapes him even as the elder continues to narrate his thoughts. “It’s cute and pink here,” he murmurs digging his thumb into the slit. Junhoe can’t help the whimper that escapes him.

Pleased with himself, Bobby releases his grip and slides off the bed to retrieve his bottle of lube and a condom from deep within his underwear drawer. Junhoe sighs in relief, muscles relaxing. He pulls his knees up, lifting his head off the bed just enough that he can observe Bobby.

The elder returns with a bottle in one hand and a square packet in the other. He drops the condom on the bed and opens the bottle of lube before pausing, a sudden thought seeming to have crossed his mind. “I don’t suppose you would blow me if I asked you to.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Junhoe hisses, drawing his knees tighter to his chest.

Bobby looks mildly disappointed. “Turn over,” he then commands instead.

Junhoe doesn’t budge, suddenly suspicious. “Why?”

Rolling his eyes, the elder sets the lube aside, hooking his hands beneath Junhoe’s hips and flipping him over easily enough. “Because I said so,” he says. He smoothes his hands down from the blond’s shoulder blades to the small of his back before coming around to curl around the younger’s hips again. He pulls the blond closer while also pulling him up more so that he’s resting his weight on his knees.

Junhoe can’t decide if he likes this more or less, as he presses his face into the sheets. On the one hand it’s comfortable because now he doesn’t have to look at Bobby. On the other hand he can’t see what Bobby is doing.

Bobby slides his hands from Junhoe’s hips to his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. Junhoe makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat, blushing darkly at the feeling of being exposed. Then something wet and hot and slick presses against his hole, and Junhoe jerks forward with a cry, pressing his face harder into the mattress as he realizes the Bobby just _fucking licked him_.

“I’m guessing no one’s ever done that to you before,” Bobby chuckles.

“No,” Junhoe gasps out. “What the _hell_ are you doing?”

“What? You don’t like being rimmed?” But Bobby prevents Junhoe from responding when he licks the younger’s entrance again, moving his tongue in circular motions over his rim. Junhoe fucking shrieks and pushes his ass back into Bobby.

When the elder pulls back, reaching out for the lube again, Junhoe collapses down onto his belly, boneless, with a satisfied groan. He feels like molten fire is running through his abdomen. “Fuck,” he curses into the mattress.

The next second he feels Bobby hovering over him; the elder leans down to rest his chin on top of Junhoe’s shoulder, and he turns his head to the side so that his lips press against the shell of the blond’s ear. “Not quite yet,” he teases before slipping a finger inside of the younger.

Junhoe’s brows furrow together and his lips part in shock at the feeling. “Oh,” he says more out of shock than anything else. “Oh God.” He squirms when Bobby begins pumping his one finger in and out. He pauses, slipping in a second finger along with the first. Bobby scissors the other open before adding a third. Junhoe tenses up, a skeptical humming noise coming from his throat.

“You’re doing so good,” Bobby praises while stroking his free hand along the small of Junhoe’s back. The blond slowly begins to relax under his touches. Bobby waits until he’s ready before he twists his wrist and then curls his fingers down, pressing the pads of his fingers against the younger’s walls. He moves them slowly back and forth until they press into something soft and spongy.

Junhoe’s legs absolutely quiver as he moans, pushing his hips off the bed. “Feel good?” Bobby asks, pleased with himself.

“I think I’m going to come,” Junhoe groans in response, rocking his hips back on the elder’s fingers.

Bobby strokes that spot a couple more times before removing his fingers completely. Junhoe’s hips stutter before he collapses back down onto the bed, a panting, sweaty mess. His cock feels hard and neglected between his stomach and the bed, and he begins to rut down into the mattress as inconspicuously as possible while he listens to the crinkle of aluminum as Bobby rips open the condom packet.

“Hey, don’t come early,” Bobby tells him while carefully rolling the condom onto his dick. Junhoe stops his movement and curses silently to himself. “Otherwise you really will have to blow me.” He says it as a joke, but Junhoe pulls a face at him anyways.

Slicking himself up with some more lube, Bobby gives his cock a few pumps and then wipes the excess lubricant on Junhoe’s thigh and the bedsheets as he rolls the blond onto his side now. Junhoe whines at the action but doesn’t put up a fight as he’s rolled onto his side. He places his hands down in front of him to help keep balance while Bobby lifts his leg up, placing it on his shoulder as he straddles the other leg.

He guides himself to the blond’s entrance and slowly pushes in until he’s fully sheathed inside. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he comments through gritted teeth.

Junhoe doesn’t say anything at first, lifting his upper body up with his arms so he could look down at the elder. Bobby starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in gently. Junhoe’s lips part in a silent moan, but other than that he remains quiet. However, the more Bobby moves, the more confident he grows, the faster he begins to move until he’s pounding into the blond. Junhoe curses at the feeling, falling back onto the bed and arching his back into a beautiful curve.

“Now you can come,” Bobby teases, pressing a few hot, open mouth kisses on the inside of Junhoe’s thigh.

The blond keens as he reaches down to play with himself, fingers tentatively stroking his cock. He isn’t much of a frequent masturbator, given his commitment to work, but he knows what he likes, and Bobby fucking him only brings him closer to orgasm faster. When he presses his thumb into his slit the way the elder had earlier, he comes with a loud cry, muscles tensing all over.

“Fuck. Holy fuck. You’re so tight,” Bobby curses, rhythm stuttering before he comes as well. He’s still cursing as he pulls out of Junhoe; the blond weakly rolls onto his back, eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling while Bobby disposes of the used condom. He only registers the elder’s presence again when he presses himself against Junhoe’s side. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he says to the blond, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The little kiss coaxes Junhoe to turn his head so that Bobby can kiss him properly this time. Bobby reaches up to pull one of his pillows close, tucking it beneath the younger’s head as he pulls him in closer. Junhoe pulls away from the kiss first with a small gasp. “I’m tired,” he says, body aching for some rest.

Bobby kisses him chastely one more time. “Then sleep,” he murmurs. And Junhoe does. He falls asleep naked and content in his soulmate’s bed, but the irony of his situation is lost in his sleep addled mind.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

They wake up due to the sound of Bobby’s ringtone going off. The phone is loud and vibrates against the little nightstand next to the bed. Junhoe grumbles something unintelligible and smacks the warm body next to him -  a silent demand to do something about that god-awful noise.

With a groan of protest, Bobby reluctantly sits up, taking a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes before he slides the phone off the nightstand and answers it. “Hello?” he answers, voice sounding rough and tired.

“What the fuck?” Hanbin’s angry voice greets him. “Dude, it’s fucking two in the afternoon. Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting for hours. I’ve sent you a dozen fucking texts.”

With his free hand, Bobby continues to rub at his eyes, still sleepy and not really caring about his friend in the least bit right now. “It’s two?” he asks.

“Yes! And you’re suppose to be here helping me finish this fucking mixtape so that we can send it in, remember? Seriously, where the hell are you?”

Bobby glances to his side where Junhoe is still sleeping - or trying to at least. The blond pulls the grey blankets up closer to himself, snuggling further into the pillow. “I just woke up,” he says, stifling a yawn. “Sorry. I’ll be there soon, okay? It’s not due until, like, six, right?”

“Five,” Hanbin spits out unhappily.

“Okay, so I’ll be there sooner,” Bobby placates, already rolling out of bed.

“I can’t believe you just woke up. You sound like you had a rough night too.”

Junhoe snorts from the bed, evidently able to hear Hanbin’s voice through the phone. “He’s not the one who got his ass pounded,” the blond mutters.

Bobby grins at his words. “Just...don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’ll be there soon. Promise. Bye!” He hangs up, throwing his phone onto his desk as he hurries over to his drawer. Junhoe doesn’t move from his spot in bed, though he does seem to be awake now.

“It changed,” he mentions while Bobby pulls out a pair of clean underwear and puts them on.

“What did?” he asks as he rummages through his drawers for shirt.

“My tattoo.” Junhoe sits up, the blankets pooling at his hips as he stares down at the inside of his right wrist. “Kim Jiwon,” he reads aloud. Bobby slips on a black, long sleeved shirt before looking over at Junhoe curiously. “Come to think of it, didn’t you say that was your name?”

“It’s my birth name.” He walks over to the pair of jeans he had abandoned on the floor yesterday, pulling those on before he tugs back the sleeve of his shirt, staring at his own tattoo curiously. “Oh, mine too,” he says proudly. “Koo Junhoe. Do you suppose it changed because we had sex last night?” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t be disgusting. My parents always told me they changed once you found and accepted your soulmate.”

“Aww, well look at you, accepting me. Finally.” Bobby throws his arms around the younger, pulling him into a hug that Junhoe neither returns nor rejects but simply sighs at.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he reminds the elder.

“Right. Better get going before Hanbin works himself into a stroke or something.” Bobby pulls away to comb his fingers through his messy bed head. “Feel free to use the shower if you need. And the kitchen. The toaster’s non-functional, but there are eggs and bacon in the fridge I’m pretty sure.” He grabs a snapback from the top of his desk, putting it on backwards. He runs back over to the bed, leaning forward for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later, I presume.”

“Probably,” Junhoe agrees, waving the elder off as he exits the room the leave.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Hanbin looks like he’s probably already had a mini stroke by the time Bobby finally shows up at Jinhwan’s to help him. “There you are,” he sighs, exasperated, as Bobby quickly takes a seat and pulls his laptop out from his backpack.

“Alright, what did I miss?” Bobby asks.

Hanbin doesn’t say anything though, instead eyeing his friend with narrow, suspicious eyes. He gives the elder a slow once over before wrinkling his nose. “You look like you just got laid,” he comments.

Bobby focuses his attention on his laptop, ignoring his friend. “I’m disturbed that you know what I look like after I’ve been laid,” he retorts.

His friend looks absolutely appalled by the notion. “Nevermind. I already sent you the latest file, so hurry the fuck up will you?” Bobby grumbles at the bossy attitude, waving his hand a dismissively. He puts up with enough of that from Junhoe, thanks.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

About an hour later, they’re nearly done with the project, and Hanbin keeps whining at Bobby to hurry up so they can send it. Junhoe comes into the coffee shop around that time too. Bobby can only tell because Hanbin’s bitching suddenly stops, and he stares at something just beyond Bobby’s shoulder. “Whoa,” he says quietly, “Blondie came back.”

Bobby looks over his shoulder to Junhoe who is standing at the counter talking to Jinhwan who seems relieved to finally see him again. “Oh,” he says intelligently before returning to his work.

“I wonder why he came back now.”

Bobby almost laughs at him. “Yeah. I wonder why.” After Junhoe takes his latte from Jinhwan, he walks over to their table and sits down between Hanbin and Bobby, thoroughly freaking out the former much to the latter’s amusement.  

Momentarily distracted from his nearly finished work, Bobby removes his headphones and leans towards Junhoe for a kiss. The blond, however, catches his face with his hand and shoves him back. “Ew, not in public,” he says.

Bobby curls his lips up in anger while Hanbin just fucking stares. “We’ll have to fix that about you,” the elder tells him off pointedly.

“Good luck,” Junhoe snorts.

“You broke the ice queen,” Hanbin blurts out.

Junhoe turns his gaze to him then. “The ice what?”

Bobby quietly returns to his music while Hanbin smoothly looks away, trying to play it off. “Um, nothing,” he insists.

The eldest takes pity on his friend, diving in to save him by changing the subject. “You’re not working?” he asks Junhoe who hasn’t even brought his messenger bag and any of his usual working material. He seems content to just sit and sip at his coffee.

Junhoe shrugs his shoulders in response. “I don’t really have much to work on at the moment,” he says, “It would be pretty hypocritical of me to bitch about soulmates now so…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll support us,” Bobby jests.

“Right.” Junhoe quirks a brow at him, taking a sip of his coffee. “You, the ‘starving artist,’ will support us.”

“I’m working on it. In the meantime,” he takes his headphones from the coffee table, leaning forward to place them over Junhoe’s ears. The blond lifts his hands up to grab the headphones, maybe to take them off, but he merely holds them as Bobby hits play and music filters into his ears. Hanbin and Bobby share a look with each other while Junhoe slowly begins to bob his head to the music. “I think that means he likes it,” Bobby brags. Hanbin rolls his eyes.

“It’s good, but I’m not really an expert on music,” Junhoe says.

Like a little kid on Christmas, Bobby pulls Junhoe’s chair closer to him and turns his laptop so that the blond can see the editing program they work with. “Well, since you have nothing to do, let me teach you a few things.” He pretends to crack his knuckles while Hanbin looks on. The younger fully expects Junhoe to pull away or smack Bobby or something, but instead he leans his head down on Bobby’s shoulder, listening quietly as Bobby explains everything he knows. They’re a….weirdly cute couple.

Then Hanbin realizes that Bobby is completely side tracked _again_. “Fine,” he mutters darkly to himself, “ _I’ll_ finish the goddamned mixtape.”

**  
  
**


End file.
